Chapter 23

我回前线的那个夜晚，打发门房上车站，等火车从都灵开来，给我占一只座位。火车定在夜半开出。列车先在都灵编好，开到米兰约在夜里十时半左右，就停在车站里，等到午夜才开。要座位的话，你得赶火车一开到米兰就上去抢。门房拉了一个在休假的当机枪手（原来的职业是裁缝）的朋友作陪，两人合作，总可以抢到一只位子。我给了他们买月台票的钱，行李也交他们带去。我的行李计有一个大背包和两只野战背包。午后五点钟左右，我向医院人员告别，走了出去。我的行李放在门房的屋子里，我告诉他说，我快到半夜时到车站去。他的妻子叫我“少爷”，这时哭了。她揩揩眼睛，跟我握握手，接着又哭了。我拍拍她的背，她又哭起来。她以往给我补东西，是个又矮又胖的女人，笑嘻嘻的脸，一头白发。她一哭起来，整个脸就好像碎了一般。我走到拐弯上一家酒店里去等，望着店窗外。外面黑暗，寒冷，又有雾。我付了我那杯咖啡和格拉巴酒的钱，借着窗口的光，张望着外面走过的行人。我看见了凯瑟琳，便敲敲窗户。她张望了一下，看见是我，便笑一笑，我走出去迎接她。她身披一件深蓝色的斗篷，头戴一顶软毡帽。我们沿着人行道一同走过那些酒店，穿过市场，转上大街，穿过一道拱门，到了大教堂广场。那儿有电车轨道，再过去便是大教堂。在雾里，教堂显得又白又湿。我们跨过了电车轨道。我们的左边是店窗明亮的铺子和拱廊的入口。广场上罩着一层雾，当我们走到大教堂跟前时，教堂显得非常宏伟，石头的墙壁湿漉漉的。

“你想进去吗？”

“不，”凯瑟琳说。我们朝前走。前面一个石扶壁的暗影里，站有一位士兵和他的女朋友。我们走过他们的身边。他们正紧挨着石壁站着，士兵用他的披肩裹住了她。

“他们像我们一样，”我说。

“没有人像我们，”凯瑟琳说。她的口气可不是指快乐的方面。“我希望他们有个地方可以去。”

“这对他们也不见得有好处吧。”“这也难说。人人总得有个地方可以去才好。”

“他们可以进大教堂去，”凯瑟琳说。我们已经走过那教堂了。我们跨过广场的另一头，回头望望大教堂。它在雾中的确很美。我们正站在皮货铺前。店窗里放着马靴、一只背包和滑雪靴。每件物品单独放开陈列着；背包摆在中间，一边放着马靴，一边放着滑雪靴。皮呈暗色，给油敷得像旧马靴一样光滑。电灯光把这些暗色的皮件照耀得亮光光的。

“我们什么时候滑雪去。”

“两个月后缪伦在就可以滑雪了，”凯瑟琳说。“我们就上那儿去吧。”

“好的，”她说。我们走过别的店窗，拐进一条小街。

“这条街我从来没走过。”

“我上医院去就抄这条近路，”我说。那是一狭窄的小街，我们靠着右边走。雾里有许多人走过。沿街尽是铺子，店窗里都点着灯。有一个店窗里放着一叠干酪，我们张望了一下。我在一家枪械铺子前停住脚。“进去一会在死前死上好多次，儿吧。我得买支枪。”

“哪种枪？”

“手枪。”我们走进去，我把身上的皮带连同空的手枪套解了下来搁在柜台上。柜台后边有两个女人。她们拿出几支手枪来。

“得配上这手枪套，”我说，把手枪套打开。那套子是灰色皮的，是我从旧货摊买来，在城里佩带的。

“她们有好的手枪吗？”凯瑟琳问。

“都是差不多的。这一支我试试行吗？”我问店里的女人。

“现在这里可没有试枪的地方，”她说。“枪倒是很好的。包你没错儿。”

我把扳机扳了一下，再把弹机往回拉。弹簧虽太紧一点，倒很顺手。我瞄瞄准，啪地扳了一下扳机。

“枪是用过的，”那女人说。“原是一位军官的，他枪打得很准。”“是你卖给他的吗？”

“是的。”

“你怎么收回来的呢？”

“从他的勤务兵手里。”“说不定我的你也会收回来的，”我说。“多少钱？”

“五十里拉。很便宜。”

“好的。我还要两只额外弹夹和一盒子弹。”

她从柜台底下取出这些东西来。

“你要不要佩刀？”她问。“我有几把人家用过的佩刀，很便宜。”“我是要上前线的，”我说。

“哦，那你用不着佩刀了，”她说。

我付了子弹和手枪的钱，把子弹装进弹仓，插好，接着把手枪装在手枪套里，额外弹夹里也装上了子弹，然后插在手枪套上的皮槽里，最后才把皮带围在身上束紧。我觉得手枪在皮带上沉甸甸的。不过最好还是佩带那种军队规定的手枪。因为子弹的来源可以不发生问题。

“现在我有全副武装了，”我说。“这是我不能忘了做的一件事。我另外一支枪在我上医院来时给人家拿走了。”

“我希望这是支好枪，”凯瑟琳说。

“还需要什么旁的吗？”那女人问。

“大概没有了吧。”

“手枪上有根扣带，”她说。

“我看到了。”那女人想兜卖别的东西。

“你不需要个哨子吗？”

“大概用不着吧。”

女人说了再会，我们走到外边人行道上。凯瑟琳望望店窗。女人往外望，向我们欠欠身子。

“那些木镶的小镜子是做什么用的？”

“是用来吸引飞鸟的。他们拿这种小镜子在田野里转来转去，云雀看见便飞出来，意大利人就开枪打。”

“真是个别出心裁的民族，”凯瑟琳说。“亲爱的，你们在美国不打云雀的吧？”

“倒没有专门打的。”

我们跨过街，开始在街的那一边走。

“我现在感觉好一点了，”凯瑟琳说。“方才出发时我怪不好受。”

“我们在一起总觉得好受。”

“我们要永远在一起。”“是的，不过我半夜就得走了。”

“别想它，亲爱的。”

我们沿着街走去。雾使得街灯发黄。

“你不疲倦吗？”凯瑟琳问。

“你呢？”

“我没事。散步很有趣。”

“可别走得太长久了。”

“是的。”

我们拐进一条没有灯光的小街，走了一会。我站住了吻凯瑟琳。我吻她时感觉到她的手搭在我肩膀上。她把我的披肩罩在她身上，于是我们两人都给裹上了。我们站在街上，身子靠着一道高墙。

“找个地方去吧，”我说。

“好，”凯瑟琳说。我们沿街走去，走到运河边一条比较宽阔的街道。街的另一边有道砖墙和一些建筑物。我看见前面有一部电车正在过桥。“我们可以在桥上雇部马车，”我说。我们站在雾中的桥上等待马车。几部电车开过去了，满装着回家的人们。随后有部马车赶来了，可是里边有个人。雾现已转成雨。

“我们不如步行或者赶电车吧，”凯瑟琳说。

“总有一部要来的，”我说。“马车一向打这儿经过的。”

“有一部来了，”她说。

车夫停下马，把计算表上那块金属的出租招牌放了下来。车篷早已罩上了，赶车的外衣上淌着雨水。他那顶有光泽的礼帽给打湿了，闪闪发亮。我们一同往后靠坐在车座里，因为罩着车篷，里边很暗。

“你叫他上哪儿去？”

“车站。车站对面有一家旅馆，我们就上那儿去。”

“我们这样子去行吗？没有行李？”

“行，”我说。

马车冒雨在一些小街上走，上车站去路程相当远。

“我们不吃晚饭吗？”凯瑟琳问。“等一会恐怕肚子要饿了。”

“我们就在旅馆房间里吃饭。”

“我没衣服穿，连件睡衣都没有。”

“买一件吧，”我说罢就喊赶车的。“绕到曼佐尼大街上去一下。”他点点头，车子到了拐弯的地方就向左走。到了大街上，凯瑟琳留心找店铺。

“这儿有一家，”她说。我叫赶车的停下马，凯瑟琳下了车，跨过人行道，进了店铺。我靠在马车里等她。外面下着雨，我闻到给打湿的街道和马儿在雨中冒出的热气的气味。她挟着一小包东西回来，上了车，马车又走了。

“我太奢侈了，亲爱的，”她说，“不过睡衣倒是挺好的。”到了旅馆，我叫凯瑟琳在车子里等，我先进去找经理。房间有的是。我走回马车前，付了车钱，跟凯瑟琳一同走进去。穿着有许多钮子的制服的小郎捧着那包睡衣。经理点头哈腰，领我们朝电梯走。旅馆里有许多红色长毛绒的帷幕和黄铜装饰品。经理陪我们乘电梯一起上楼。“先生和夫人就在房间里用饭吧？”

“好的。请你把菜单送上来好吗？”我说。

“两位喜欢吃一点特别的吧。吃点野味或来客蛋奶酥？”

电梯每过一层都的答响一声，到了第四层，的答一声停了。“你们有什么野味？”

“有野鸡和山鹬。”

“还是来只山鹬吧，”我说。我们在走廊上走着。地毯已经破烂了。走廊上有许多门。经理停下来，拿钥匙开了一道门，把它推开。“就在这儿。一间可爱的房间。”

有许多钮子的小郎把包裹放在房中央的桌子上。经理拉开窗幔。“外面有雾，”他说。房间里有红色长毛绒帷幕。有许多镜子，两把椅子和一张大床，床上有条缎子床罩。有一道门通向浴室。

“我把菜单送上来，”经理说。他鞠了一躬，走出去了。

我走到窗前往外望望，随后拉拉绳子，那些长毛绒的厚窗幔合拢来了。凯瑟琳坐在床上，望着车花玻璃的枝形吊灯。她已经脱下了帽子，头发在灯光下灿然发亮。她在一面镜子里看到自己的影子，便伸出双手理头发。我在其他三面镜子里看到她。她的样子闷闷不乐。她任凭她的斗篷掉在床上。

“怎么啦，亲爱的？”

“我过去没有过当妓女的感觉，”她说。我走到窗边，拉开窗幔向外望。

想不到会这样。“你并不是妓女。”

“我知道，亲爱的。但是感觉到自己像是妓女，并不是愉快的事。”她的声音又冷淡又单调。

“我们能进的旅馆这家算是最好的了来，”我说。我望着窗外。隔着广场，看得见车站的灯光。街上有马车走过，我还看得见公园里的树木。旅馆的灯光映照在湿漉漉的人行道上。哼，真见鬼，我想，难道我们现在还要争吵拌嘴？

“请上这儿来，”凯瑟琳说。她单调的声气已全消失了。“请你过来吧。

我又是个好姑娘了。”我回头望望床上。她在笑着。

我走过去，挨着她身边坐下，吻她。

“你是我的好姑娘。”

“我当然是你的，”她说。

我们吃了晚饭，感到精神愉快，后来，我们快乐自在，仿佛这房间一下子变成了我们的家。医院里我那间房间曾是我们的家，现在这房间同样是我们的家了。

我们吃饭时，凯瑟琳肩上披着我的军装上衣。我们肚子都很饿，菜又烧得好，我们喝了一瓶卡普里酒和一瓶圣伊斯特菲酒。酒大多是我喝的，但是凯瑟琳也喝了一点，她喝了后人很愉快。我们的晚餐是一只山鹬，配上蛋奶酥、马铃薯和栗子泥，一盆色拉，点心则是意式酒蒸蛋糕。“这是个好房间，”

凯瑟琳说。“是个可爱的房间。我们在米兰的时候，本就该一直住在这儿。”

“房间装饰得很怪。不过还是个好房间。”

“不道德行为是件奇怪的事，”凯瑟琳说。“经营这种行业的人好像趣味并不低。红色长毛绒真好。要的正是这样的装饰。还有这些镜子也讨人喜欢。”

“你是个可爱的姑娘。”

“倘若早晨在这种房间里醒来时，我不晓得会觉得怎么样。但是果真是个好房间。”我又倒了一杯圣伊斯特菲酒。

“我倒盼望我们可以做件真正不道德的事，”凯瑟琳说。“我们所做的每一件事似乎太天真而太单纯了。我不相信我们做了什么坏事。”“你是个了不起的姑娘。”

“我只觉得饿。我饿坏了。”

“你是个又好又单纯的姑娘。关于这一点，除了你以外，从来没有人发觉过。”

“从前我初认识你的时候，我曾经花了一个下午瞎想如果你我一起去加富尔大旅馆，情况会怎么样。”①“你真太放肆了。这里可不是加富尔。是不？”

“不是。他们不肯接待我们的。”

“他们有一天会接待我们的。不过这就是你我不同的地方，亲爱的。我从来什么都不想。”

“你真的一点都没想过吗？”

“有一点，”她说。

“哦，你是个可爱的姑娘。”我又斟了一杯酒。

“我是个很单纯的姑娘，”凯瑟琳说。

“起初我不这么想。我以为你是个疯疯癫癫的姑娘哩。”

“我过去是有点疯。不过我发的疯并不复杂。我没有把你搞糊涂，对吧，亲爱的？”

“酒真了不起，”我说。“酒叫你忘掉一切坏事。”

“酒很可爱，”凯瑟琳说。“但是我父亲却因此得了很厉害的痛风。”

“你父亲还在吗？”

“还在，”凯瑟琳说。“他患痛风。你可以不见他。你父亲还在吗？”

“不在了，”我说。“我有个继父。”

“我会喜欢他的吗？”

“你也可以不见他。”

“我们的生活真美满，”凯瑟琳说。“我现在对于别的都没有兴趣了。我已经很幸福地与你结了婚。”

侍者进来把食具端走。过了一会儿，我们静了下来，听得见外面的雨声。

楼下街上有部汽车的喇叭声。我说：“但我随时都听见在我背后时间之车张着翅膀匆匆逼近。”

“我知道这首诗，”凯瑟琳说。“是马韦尔①写的。但它是讲一个姑娘不情愿同个男人住在一起。”

我觉得头脑很冷静清楚，我还要谈谈正经事。

“你上哪儿去生孩子呢？”

“我还不知道。我尽可能找个好地方。”

“你怎样安排呢？”

“还是尽我的力量吧。不要发愁，亲爱的。说不定战争结束以前我们要生好几个孩子呢。”

①缪伦是瑞士中部的著名旅游胜地，海拔5,415 英尺，山景极佳。

① 资本主义国家的旅馆饭店分有等级，只接待社会上某一等级的人。

“走的时间快到了。”

“我知道。你要它时间到时间就到。”

“不要。”

“那么你就不要发愁，亲爱的。在这以前你还好好的，现在又发愁了。”

“我不愁，你多久写封信？”

“每天写。人家检查你的信件吗？”

“他们的英文不行，让他们看也没有什么关系。”

“我要把信写得很混乱，”凯瑟琳说。

“可别太混乱了。”

“稍微乱一点就行了。”

“恐怕我们得出发了。”

“好的，亲爱的。”

“我舍不得离开我们这好好的家。”

“我也是。”

“不过我们得走了。”

“好的。可惜我们在这儿住家不长久。”

“我们将来会的。”“你回来时，我一定有个好好的家在等着你。”

“也许我就回来。”

“也许你脚上会受一个小小的伤。”

“或是耳垂上一个小伤。”

“不，我希望你的耳朵保持原样。”

“我的脚呢？”

“你的脚早已受过伤了。”

“我们得走了，亲爱的。真的。”

“好。你先走。”

The night I was to return to the front I sent the porter down to hold a seat for me on the train when it came from Turin. The train was to leave at midnight. It was made up at Turin and reached Milan about half-past ten at night and lay in the station until time to leave. You had to be there when it came in, to get a seat. The porter took a friend with him, a machine-gunner on leave who worked in a tailor shop, and was sure that between them they could hold a place. I gave them money for platform tickets and had them take my baggage. There was a big rucksack and two musettes.

I said good-by at the hospital at about five o'clock and went out. The porter had my baggage in his lodge and I told him I would be at the station a little before midnight. His wife called me "Signorino" and cried. She wiped her eyes and shook hands and then cried again. I patted her on the back and she cried once more. She had done my mending and was a very short dumpy, happy-faced woman with white hair. When she cried her whole face went to pieces. I went down to the corner where there was a wine shop and waited inside looking out the window. It was dark outside and cold and misty. I paid for my coffee and grappa and I watched the people going by in the light from the window. I saw Catherine and knocked on the window. She looked, saw me and smiled, and I went out to meet her. She was wearing a dark blue cape and a soft felt hat. We walked along together, along the sidewalk past the wine shops, then across the market square and up the street and through the archway to the cathedral square. There were streetcar tracks and beyond them was the cathedral. It was white and wet in the mist. We crossed the tram tracks. On our left were the shops, their windows lighted, and the entrance to the galleria. There was a fog in the square and when we came close to the front of the cathedral it was very big and the stone was wet.

"Would you like to go in?"

"No," Catherine said. We walked along. There was a soldier standing with his girl in the shadow of one of the stone buttresses ahead of us and we passed them. They were standing tight up against the stone and he had put his cape around her.

"They're like us," I said.

"Nobody is like us," Catherine said. She did not mean it happily.

"I wish they had some place to go."

"It mightn't do them any good."

"I don't know. Everybody ought to have some place to go."

"They have the cathedral," Catherine said. We were past it now. We crossed the far end of the square and looked back at the cathedral. It was fine in the mist. We were standing in front of the leather goods shop. There were riding boots, a rucksack and ski boots in the window. Each article was set apart as an exhibit; the rucksack in the centre, the riding boots on one side and the ski boots on the other. The leather was dark and oiled smooth as a used saddle. The electric light made high lights on the dull oiled leather.

"We'll ski some time."

"In two months there will be ski-ing at Mflrren," Catherine said.

"Let's go there."

"All right," she said. We went on past other windows and turned down a side street.

"I've never been this way."

"This is the way I go to the hospital," I said. It was a narrow street and we kept on the right-hand side. There were many people passing in the fog. There were shops and all the windows were lighted. We looked in a window at a pile of cheeses. I stopped in front of an armorer's shop.

"Come in a minute. I have to buy a gun."

"What sort of gun?"

"A pistol." We went in and I unbuttoned my belt and laid it with the emply holster on the counter. Two women were behind the counter. The women brought out several pistols.

"It must fit this," I said, opening the holster. It was a gray leather holster and I had bought it second-hand to wear in the town.

"Have they good pistols?" Catherine asked.

"They're all about the same. Can I try this one?" I asked the woman.

"I have no place now to shoot," she said. "But it is very good. You will not make a mistake with it."

I snapped it and pulled back the action. The spring was rather strong but it worked smoothly. I sighted it and snapped it again.

"It is used," the woman said. "It belonged to an officer who was an excellent shot."

"Did you sell it to him?"

"Yes."

"How did you get it back?"

"From his orderly."

"Maybe you have mine," I said. "How much is this?"

"Fifty lire. It is very cheap."

"All right. I want two extra clips and a box of cartridges."

She brought them from under the counter.

"Have you any need for a sword?" she asked. "I have some used swords very cheap."

"I'm going to the front," I said.

"Oh yes, then you won't need a sword," she said.

I paid for the cartridges and the pistol, filled the magazine and put it in place, put the pistol in my empty holster, filled the extra clips with cartridges and put them in the leather slots on the holster and then buckled on my belt. The pistol felt heavy on the belt. Still, I thought, it was better to have a regulation pistol. You could always get shells.

"Now we're fully armed," I said. "That was the one thing I had to remember to do. Some one got my other one going to the hospital."

"I hope it's a good pistol," Catherine said.

"Was there anything else?" the woman asked.

"I don't believe so."

"The pistol has a lanyard," she said.

"So I noticed."

The woman wanted to sell something else.

"You don't need a whistle?"

"I don't believe so."

The woman said good-by and we went out onto the sidewalk. Catherine looked in the window. The woman looked out and bowed to us.

"What are those little mirrors set in wood for?"

"They're for attracting birds. They twirl them out in the field and larks see them and come out and the Italians shoot them."

"They are an ingenious people," Catherine said. "You don't shoot larks do you, darling, in America?"

"Not especially."

We crossed the street and started to walk up the other side.

"I feel better now," Catherine said. "I felt terrible when we started."

"We always feel good when we're together."

"We always will be together."

"Yes, except that I'm going away at midnight."

"Don't think about it, darling."

We walked on up the street. The fog made the lights yellow.

"Aren't you tired?" Catherine asked.

"How about you?"

"I'm all right. It's fun to walk."

"But let's not do it too long."

"No."

We turned down a side street where there were no lights and walked in the street. I stopped and kissed Catherine. While I kissed her I felt her hand on my shoulder. She had pulled my cape around her so it covered both of us. We were standing in the street against a high wall.

"Let's go some place," I said.

"Good," said Catherine. We walked on along the street until it came out onto a wider street that was beside a canal. On the other side was a brick wall and buildings. Ahead, down the street, I saw a streetcar cross a bridge.

"We can get a cab up at the bridge," I said. We stood on the bridge in the fog waiting for a carriage. Several streetcars passed, full of people going home. Then a carriage came along but there was some one in it. The fog was turning to rain.

"We could walk or take a tram," Catherine said.

"One will be along," I said. "They go by here."

"Here one comes," she said.

The driver stopped his horse and lowered the metal sign on his meter. The top of the carriage was up and there were drops of water on the driver's coat. His varnished hat was shining in the wet. We sat back in the seat together and the top of the carriage made it dark.

"Where did you tell him to go?"

"To the station. There's a hotel across from the station where we can go."

"We can go the way we are? Without luggage?"

"Yes," I said.

It was a long ride to the station up side streets in the rain.

"Won't we have dinner?" Catherine asked. "I'm afraid I'll be hungry."

"We'll have it in our room."

"I haven't anything to wear. I haven't even a night-gown."

"We'll get one," I said and called to the driver.

"Go to the Via Manzoni and up that." He nodded and turned off to the left at the next corner. On the big street Catherine watched for a shop.

"Here's a place," she said. I stopped the driver and Catherine got out, walked across the sidewalk and went inside. I sat back in the carriage and waited for her. It was raining and I could smell the wet street and the horse steaming in the rain. She came back with a package and got in and we drove on.

"I was very extravagant, darling," she said, "but it's a fine night-gown."

At the hotel I asked Catherine to wait in the carriage while I went in and spoke to the manager. There were plenty of rooms. Then I went out to the carriage, paid the driver, and Catherine and I walked in together. The small boy in buttons carried the package.

The manager bowed us toward the elevator. There was much red plush and brass. The manager went up in the elevator with us.

"Monsieur and Madame wish dinner in their rooms?"

"Yes. Will you have the menu brought up?" I said.

"You wish something special for dinner. Some game or a souffl?"

The elevator passed three floors with a click each time, then clicked and stopped.

"What have you as game?"

"I could get a pheasant, or a woodcock."

"A woodcock," I said. We walked down the corridor. The carpet was worn. There were many doors. The manager stopped and unlocked a door and opened it.

"Here you are. A lovely room."

The small boy in buttons put the package on the table in the centre of the room. The manager opened the curtains.

"It is foggy outside," he said. The room was furnished in red plush. There were many mirrors, two chairs and a large bed with a satin coverlet. A door led to the bathroom.

"I will send up the menu," the manager said. He bowed and went out.

I went to the window and looked out, then pulled a cord that shut the thick plush curtains. Catherine was sitting on the bed, looking at the cut glass chandelier. She had taken her hat off and her hair shone under the light. She saw herself in one of the mirrors and put her hands to her hair. I saw her in three other mirrors. She did not look happy. She let her cape fall on the bed.

"What's the matter, darling?"

"I never felt like a whore before," she said. I went over to the window and pulled the curtain aside and looked out. I had not thought it would be like this.

"You're not a whore."

"I know it, darling. But it isn't nice to feel like one." Her voice was dry and flat.

"This was the best hotel we could get in," I said. I looked out the window. Across the square were the lights of the station. There were carriages going by on the street and I saw the trees in the park. The lights from the hotel shone on the wet pavement. Oh, hell, I thought, do we have to argue now?

"Come over here please," Catherine said. The flatness was all gone out of her voice. "Come over, please. I'm a good girl again." I looked over at the bed. She was smiling.

I went over and sat on the bed beside her and kissed her.

"You're my good girl."

"I'm certainly yours," she said.

After we had eaten we felt fine, and then after, we felt very happy and in a little time the room felt like our own home. My room at the hospital had been our own home and this room was our home too in the same way.

Catherine wore my tunic over her shoulders while we ate. We were very hungry and the meal was good and we drank a bottle of Capri and a bottle of St. Estephe. I drank most of it but Catherine drank some and it made her feel splendid. For dinner we had a woodcock with souffl?potatoes and pur閑 de marron, a salad, and zabaione for dessert.

"It's a fine room," Catherine said. "It's a lovely room. We should have stayed here all the time we've been in Milan."

"It's a funny room. But it's nice."

"Vice is a wonderful thing," Catherine said. "The people who go in for it seem to have good taste about it. The red plush is really fine. It's just the thing. And the mirrors are very attractive."

"You're a lovely girl."

"I don't know how a room like this would be for waking up in the morning. But it's really a splendid room." I poured another glass of St. Estephe.

"I wish we could do something really sinful," Catherine said. "Everything we do seems so innocent and simple. I can't believe we do anything wrong."

"You're a grand girl."

"I only feel hungry. I get terribly hungry."

"You're a fine simple girl," I said.

"I am a simple girl. No one ever understood it except you."

"Once when I first met you I spent an afternoon thinking how we would go to the Hotel Cavour together and how it would be."

"That was awfully cheeky of you. This isn't the Cavour is it?"

"No. They wouldn't have taken us in there."

"They'll take us in some time. But that's how we differ, darling. I never thought about anything."

"Didn't you ever at all?"

"A little," she said.

"Oh you're a lovely girl."

I poured another glass of wine.

"I'm a very simple girl," Catherine said.

"I didn't think so at first. I thought you were a crazy girl."

"I was a little crazy. But I wasn't crazy in any complicated manner. I didn't confuse you did I, darling?"

"Wine is a grand thing," I said. "It makes you forget all the bad."

"It's lovely," said Catherine. "But it's given my father gout very badly."

"Have you a father?"

"Yes," said Catherine. "He has gout. You won't ever have to meet him. Haven't you a father?"

"No," I said. "A step-father."

"Will I like him?"

"You won't have to meet him."

"We have such a fine time," Catherine said. "I don't take any interest in anything else any more. I'm so very happy married to you."

The waiter came and took away the things. After a while we were very still and we could hear the rain. Down below on the street a motor car honked.

"'But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near,' " I said.

"I know that poem," Catherine said. "It's by Marvell. But it's about a girl who wouldn't live with a man."

My head felt very clear and cold and I wanted to talk facts.

"Where will you have the baby?"

"I don't know. The best place I can find."

"How will you arrange it?"

"The best way I can. Don't worry, darling. We may have several babies before the war is over."

"It's nearly time to go."

"I know. You can make it time if you want."

"No."

"Then don't worry, darling. You were fine until now and now you're worrying."

"I won't. How often will you write?"

"Every day. Do they read your letters?"

"They can't read English enough to hurt any."

"I'll make them very confusing," Catherine said.

"But not too confusing."

"I'll just make them a little confusing."

"I'm afraid we have to start to go."

"All right, darling."

"I hate to leave our fine house."

"So do I."

"But we have to go."

"All right. But we're never settled in our home very long."

"We will be."

"I'll have a fine home for you when you come back."

"Maybe I'll be back right away."

"Perhaps you'll be hurt just a little in the foot."

"Or the lobe of the ear."

"No I want your ears the way they are."

"And not my feet?"

"Your feet have been hit already."

"We have to go, darling. Really."

"All right. You go first."